


You Know Better, Than to Look at It Like That

by ClaraTheFabulous



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Baseball, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, cuteness, smooches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-03-25 20:20:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13842279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraTheFabulous/pseuds/ClaraTheFabulous
Summary: What happens next, he can explain it scientifically. A rush of endorphins and dopamine are produced by feelings of accomplishment. They are both happy chemicals. Funny enough, the brain reacts similarly to accomplishment as cocaine or alcohol, where a person can feel extremely happy and has the same loss of inhibitions. Another thing that happens in both these scenarios is a rush of oxytocin, the love hormone. It is the reason why people tend to get loving when they're drunk or high. So that's the big explanation: Derek kissed him because he was high on winning.Spencer kissed back because he'd been in love for years.





	You Know Better, Than to Look at It Like That

Morgan's eyes are sparkling in the sunlight in the way only his deep brown eyes can, sunsets and canyons and mountains all in the wonderful irises of a wonderful man. His hand, much larger than Spencer's... well anything, is nestled into the crease of his neck. His thumb almost feels like it's going to the insane and stroke his cheek. Nonetheless, the other hand is warming his shoulder, masked with a thick baseball glove. Baseball. God, he shouldn't even be here. Morgan is the cool jock with a cheerleader girlfriend, who loves sports and football and reads because he's required. Spencer is... Spencer. Skinny, non-athletic by any stretch of the imagination, loves to read Russian Literature, and definitely should NOT be anywhere near a baseball field.

Spencer's eyes drift down to Derek's lips as they form whatever words he's saying. He lets the deep timbre wash over him and it almost feels like being tucked into bed and being read to. Ironic, how Morgan probably thinks about baseball to quiet his mind and Spencer is getting worked up from Morgan speaking baseball at him. Morgan is looking at him with these hopeful eyes and bitten-red lips and telling him not to think, well what the hell else is he going to do? God, his lips. Morgan's probably a little nervous about this game, they're cherry red and are shiny where he's bitten at them. Mmmmm, biting at Morgan's lips. Spencer's center of gravity is certainly not this far forward, and Morgan should not need to be holding onto his shoulder this hard. His attention shifts to his shoulders as they're about to relax, but soon a dark hand pats him and Morgan's solace is saying goodbye, retreating back to base. 

Spencer's pretty sure that breaks several rules of baseball,  _if a player steps off base, for any reason, he or she can be tagged and be pronounced out_ , from some baseball manual he read when he was bored and about three. Morgan probably knows this, but he guesses this is a friendly enough game, and the opposing team would not try a  _pick_ _-off_. Okay, focus time. The approximate weight of the baseball is determined by the brand, but the brand cannot be discerned from this distance. Okay, average. The average weight of a baseball is about 6 ounces, multiplied by the approximate force a pitcher of this height and by the gravitational pull of-

 

"STRIKE ONE!!" 

 

Shit. Okay, just do better. Acceleration due to gravity is 9.8 meters per second per second, multiplied by the mass, 6 ounces, is around 0.2 kg, multiplied is about-

 

"STRIKE TWO!!"

 

Okay, one more shot. that's 1.2 joules. Wait, what is he doing? He needed to calculate the slope of the fall and the speed, not the force. Okay, start over-

 

"COME ON PRETTY BOY"

 

Pretty boy, a name that never fails to make him blush.  _stop thinking, goddammit_

His bony hands tighten around the bat, he unconsciously gets a little lower and sticks his elbow farther out. Khakis were not a good decision, but it'll have to do. He has to make Morgan proud, maybe even get another glimpse at that sunshine smile. 

 

He doesn't think, he moves. The ball is hit with a resounding crack, and Morgan is sprinting towards him with a cheek-to-cheek grin, eyebrows coming together in a look of confusion. God his teeth are so pearly, and the smile is like a fireplace, warming him up from his stomach up. That mouth is saying something though, and Spencer is so sure he looks cross-eyed and dazed. Oh, right, he's supposed to run now. His feet slide a little, a little like Shaggy from the popular Cartoon show _Scooby Doo_. Spencer sprints towards first base, just barely using it as a launchpad and probably looking really stupid with his little baby run. 

 

Second base, he sees an opponent fall over, probably to get the tiny ball that just whizzed by.

 

Third base, he sees sunshine and a beautiful smile cheering him on. His stupid baby run doesn't matter anymore

 

Home, and he hears more than he sees the figure running up behind him. The speed he's going at, subtracted from the speed the competitors going at, means... yeah he's not going to make it. 

 

Fuck math.

 

He takes a dive, crashing shoulder first into the base just below Derek's feet. The thud is honestly incredibly painful, likely due to his shoulder ligaments being pulled a bit more than they should. Sprain: unlikely. Sore: 99% probability.

 

And Morgan's right here, smiling that thousand watt smile. It twinkles a little when Spencer doesn't smile back, so he ignores his back groaning and takes the hand offered. He can't complain long, because Morgan pulls him into a tight hug that sweeps him off his feet. He ends up with one arm awkwardly around his waist and the other wrapped around his shoulder. 

 

Just a little quieter, he can feel Morgan's lips at his ear, whispering, "You did great kid. Proud of you." 

 

Spencer melts like butter on a Las Vegas day, and Morgan lets out a little huff at the added weight. He tucks his nose into Derek's shoulder and could probably die happy here.

 

But the moment doesn't last forever, Spencer returns to his feet and is returned his weight, but Morgan doesn't pull away. Spencer knows his lips are pulling in his weird mouth-shrug, but Derek's  _not pulling way._ His sunrise eyes are dancing in the light, and looking straight at Spencer with affection? no, admiration. no that can't be right. Ugh, humans are so hard to predict (unless they're sociopaths, of course).

 

What happens next, he can explain it scientifically. A rush of endorphins and dopamine are produced by feelings of accomplishment. They are both so-called happy hormones. Funny enough, the brain reacts similarly to accomplishment as marijuana or alcohol, where a person can feel extremely happy and has the same loss of inhibitions. Another thing that happens in both these scenarios is a rush of Oxytocin, the love hormone. It is the reason why people tend to get loving when they're drunk or high. So that's the big explanation: Derek kissed him because he was high on winning.

 

Spencer kissed back because he'd been in love for years.

 

It's not honestly that much of a difference between their position to get kissing and the position before. Derek's hand s tays nestled at the back of his neck, the other hand cups his hip and his thumb slides along his waist. Spencer brings both arms up to wrap around Derek's shoulders and pull tighter against the larger man's chest. Derek lets out a little huff and wraps both arms around his back, one lower than the other. 

 

That's not even mentioning what Derek does with his mouth. Derek is a few inches taller, and the way he takes over makes Spencer grateful for the hands at his back. Spencer holding Derek's neck is kind of for safety to avoid falling over. Derek is biting and teasing at his lips, scraping across them with his tongue, working them open and generally making Spencer's knees go weak. Before it's over, Spencer can tell his heart is way above his resting metabolic rate, and he feels like an idiot. 

 

When they finally separate, it's not that big of a surprise to see those grand canyon eyes wide, avoiding eye contact, looking at his bigger-than-Spencer's-anything hands with obvious distaste. Morgan mumbles a quick apology and takes off running towards the locker rooms.

 

Spencer stands there, gaze straight ahead where sunshine stood, knowing how it felt to have those hands wrapped around him tight with a promise, only to have it broken and abandoned. Yeah, Spencer feels like a fucking idiot. 

.-.. --- ...- .

 

When he get back to work on Monday, Spencer brings only two coffees, like normal, but both are for himself. No one needs to know he spent all weekend telling himself how little it matters. Endorphins and Oxytocin, Endorphins and Oxytocin. 

 

He's got the most baggy sweater he could find, it goes way past his wrists but honestly he can't be bothered. More insulation between him and the coffee, basically. When he sits at his desk, he's not surprised to find no one in the building. A quick check of his watch confirms it's about 4:30 in the morning, which makes sense. Just staring at the ceiling was stupidly unproductive, especially considering the nice sized pile of paperwork to greet him on his desk. He's been looking forward to this all night. 

 

He sets his bag on the floor, 3 inches from the edge, his coffee equidistant from the edge of the desk and his computer, around 6.28 inches. His computer has to be 3 inches from the back edge of the desk, he straightens one edge, and the paperwork is neatly arranged- well not neatly, he spends 30 minutes making sure all the corners are lined up before he's at all functional. In fact, the chords under his desk are in terrible shape, so he gets some masking tape to label them and organizes them so that they are a straight line from wherever they are going to the surge protector. He's about to get into labeling when he reaches for a pen and realizes his whole desk drawer is completely atrocious, so he finds a few baskets for pens and some old staple boxes for binder clips and arranges his folders in alphabetical order before realizing his folders are not arranged for functionality and efficiency, so he lays all the documents out on the floor, and no one's here so it doesn't matter-

 

"How long are you going to spend doing that?" A deep voice says behind him, not unkindly. 

 

It's sunrise now, putting it at about 6:04 AM, and the rays twinkling from the window land right on a bald dark-skinned man. 

 

"I didn't realize you were here."

 

"yeah, I figured." The man stands for a few seconds, and they both speak at the same time

 

"How long have you been here"     "Are we going to talk about it or not?"

 

"About 20 minutes, you?"

 

"About an hour and a half" The man blows out his exhale and sits next to him among the carnage.

 

A few more minutes of silence, and neither of them has enough courage to break it, but maybe Spencer can.

 

"I know why you did it." Mr. Morgan looks at him, eyebrows crinkled in the middle.

 

"I know why. I understand, I know you didn't mean to but that's okay, I'll get over it I just need  _time_. I'm sorry I'm not my best right now and I came in at 4:30 but I hadn't slept at all and I've completely trashed the whole office, so you can be mad at me for that but please don't be mad at me for.... the thing. I'll get over it" He hasn't been able to kick this stupid crush for years but maybe now, knowing that look of disgust.

 

"Spence" those hands come to cup his own, "Spence, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that" Spencer deflates, "I know how you are and I know you don't like that kind of stuff and I really shouldn't have-" he sighs. "I haven't been able to sleep either. I'll clean up this mess just go home, get some rest, and maybe you can forgive me. I know that's a lot to ask, but honestly I'm so freaking desperate I might do anything. If you can't, I can transfer-"

 

Spencer's eyes widen, "No, no please. I promise I can get over it, I'll just stay at work today and you don't even have to talk to me if you don't want to-"

 

"If  _I_ don't want to?"

 

"just both of us can stay at work and we can just move on-"

 

"Wait, wait. What exactly do you think is going on here?"

 

Spencer lightly rolls his eyes and takes a breath, "Look, a rush of so-called happy hormones produces a similar result to being drunk. That and me being  _way_   too close made you kiss me. I know you don't feel that way, and I really shouldn't have kissed back, but I've loved you for years, so I'm sorry of taking advantage of the situation."

 

There's an element of pity when Morgan speaks again, "Pretty boy"

 

And with that, Spencer shoots up and walks straight to the bathroom. Make fun of him, fine. Lead him on and betray him, been there before. Pity him? hell no.

 

Just as he locks one of the stalls, he can hear a call of "Spencer!!" from behind him, but honestly he doesn't care. He never should have cared in the first place. The bathroom door opens and a pair of hiking boots walks in the door, and Spencer is very focused on not caring.

 

"Pretty boy, you gotta hear me out-"

 

"Don't call me that. You don't mean it. Honestly you can be so insensitive at times, just flying around stuff that you DON'T MEAN" He's throwing a tantrum, and he knows it. _Don't care, don't care. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters at all. Why is he breathing so hard? He doesn't care. Someone's pulling at his hair and the stall was locked no one can be in here oh god he's alone in a building with a man that hates him and can kick down doors._ _He's getting closer what could he possibly want Spencer's moving on can't he see that? He doesn't even care_

 

"Hey, hey, Spence. You're fine. I don't hate you, I want to figure it out but you gotta follow me, okay? Just breathe. Focus on your breathing." He continues to talk it out and Spencer follows his breathing exercises. 

 

"Okay. Much better." One calloused but soft hand reaches under the wall of the stall, and a small skeletal hand fits just right between the fingers, and the fireplace is alight again, spreading up his arm and down his back, and he knows he's about to burn down. 

 

"I know I call you pretty boy a lot, but I want you to know that I mean it. Every. damn. time. When I saw you on that baseball field, looking at me like that? Looking at me with the world in your eyes, as if I had hit it for you, What else was I supposed to do? I've just been trying not to intimidate you for so long that I forgot how to hold myself back if I knew it wasn't intimidating. I realized what I'd done when you looked completely out of it after. So I ran. And I don't think I slept more than a total of 15 minutes this weekend, knowing how I could have affected you. I guess I had the same idea you did, I started driving at around 5 o'clock this morning after staring at the ceiling got boring. So I'm sorry. I should've talked it out then and there, and maybe not done it in front of everybody, but I would do it again if I had the chance."

 

All Derek sees is one beautiful small hand leave his own and the shadow of converse leave the dirty bathroom floor. He doesn't see Spencer unlock the stall until a shy pretty boy is stepping out, small smile playing at his lips.

 

"We're both idiots"

 

"Hell yeah, Mister Doctor Reid, PhD"

 

Let's just say mouths work as excellent silencers. 

**Author's Note:**

> I finished this late at night, so please let me know if something doesn't make sense or has some spelling error or something.
> 
> Otherwise, I really needed to finish this. I haven't watched all the seasons yet, but I did see the clip from this baseball game and honestly Morgan's so sweet. 
> 
> I'm really tired and I've been staring at crazy small font on my computer for a few hours, so I'm going to bed. I hope you liked it!
> 
> Comments/Kudos are appreciated (obviously, but please)


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